On speaking Telugu

Last night my roommates and I went to dinner at Fusion 9, a posh restaurant in Banjara Hills, for the birthday of their coworker and fellow AJWS volunteer (not a World Partners Fellowship volunteer) Lisa's birthday. Meg and Deepa, other SAATHI volunteers, also joined us for the dinner.

We ordered Western dishes that we have been missing sorely, such as Salad (Lily ordered a goat cheese, mandarin orange and pine nut salad), pasta (me and Lisa got penne with sundried tomatoes and artichoke in a white wine sauce while Meg got stuffed mannicotti) and Middle Eastern appetizers (two plates with humous, pita bread, baba ganoush and taboli). We talked, we sang happy birthday, we ate cake. We played mad libs.

While Deepa, who arrived in India yesterday, drank bottled water, the rest of us drank filtered tap water, which is available in most restaurants. The degree to which it is filtered may depend upon the quality of the restaurant, so someone who has been in India a while can probably drink water with minor filtration, whereas we gave Deepa bottled water to be safe. I normally drink a lot of water at restaurants, and in general, especially here in India - it's around 100 degrees everyday! Several times during the meal I had to remind the waiter to bring me, and sometimes others at the table, more water. As a former waitress I know what I want when I go to a restaurant, and expect waiters to conform to a certain level of service.

When the waiter brought the cake without the candle I had requested, put it in front of Lisa, and the held up the unlit candle and asked Lisa what he was supposed to do with it, I was annoyed but in a good-natured manner. We lit the candle ourselves and sang happy birthday. However, after eating the cake, I was thirsty and to my dismay the waiter brushed off Shlayma when she asked for more water. I tried to get the waiters attention, but he walked by me several times without noticing my beckoning hand, ignoring my "excuse me, sir!". Finally, he was walking nearby and I said, "BAPU! Manchi neelu evandi!" (Sir/pal, bring me good water!) He stepped towards me then backwards, then ran to get the water. He came to the table, looking a bit shaken, and poured some water for me and Meg, whose glass was also low.

When he came back a few minutes later to refill my glass yet again, he said, "Madame, you are from Andhra?" I said no and he said "How then you know Telugu so well?" I explained that I've been living here for 8 months and have learned some. I said modestly (and truthfully) "I only know kunchum kunchum (little, little)." To which he thought for a moment and said, "You can speak frankly." As he walked away everyone at my table burst out laughing. I sat there feeling shocked and amused - I've never had someone so delicately sugar coat calling me a heinous bitch.